


The Cover of Darkness

by Anonymous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Coming Out, Disabled Anduin Wrynn, Gender Dysphoria, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Nonsexual Nudity, Scars, Secrets, Trans Anduin, Trans Male Character, Trans Wrathion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Anduin wonders why the Black Prince never seems to sleep, and takes to studying his mysterious habits.
Relationships: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27
Collections: Anonymous





	The Cover of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Brief dysphoria/internalized transphobia. Rated M for nudity discussion but all nudity in this fic is non-sexual

There was something strange about the Black Prince’s habits, something Anduin couldn’t pin down. At first, he thought the other boy didn’t sleep. In the intitial weeks of his mending, Anduin would lie awake and listen to the dragon’s musical lilt drifting up through the bamboo floorboards. 

Whether it was three in the afternoon or three in the morning, the boy who called himself Wrathion sounded alert: pacing the dining hall, chatting with grummle pilgrims on their way out to the shrine by the road, leaning against the counter while Tong readied his daily stock in the hour or two before dawn.

As Anduin became more comfortable descending the stairs, however, he discovered the truth. The Black Prince did, in fact, sleep, but he did so in spurts, shifting between meetings and slithering between kegs at the back of the Tavern’s storeroom. Anduin longed to ask _why_ he couldn’t sleep at night like everyone else, but every time he opened his mouth to do so images of the dragon flashing him a mysterious smile rose to the front of his mind. 

_Oh Anduin,_ the Black Prince would say. _My apologies, but I’m afraid your mortal mind couldn’t comprehend it. The great mysteries of a dragon are best left unspoken._

With that, Anduin learned to sleep through the dragon’s boisterous laughter. He was nonplussed by the occasional argument between Wrathion and innkeeper, even when they roused him from bed several hours before his morning therapy was set to begin.

He also learned not to be alarmed by the pair of red eyes that flickered out by the hot springs in the darkest hours of night. 

Those late night baths were one of the dragon's habits Anduin came to mark as a constant, no matter how erratic and unpredictable the rest of his schedule might be. 

Every evening around the second bell, the door out back would squeal on its hinges, and a pair of bare feet would patter down the stone path leading out to the water. He always waited until Tong had extinguished the lanterns, and always stayed submerged up to his chin. His black curls billowed on the water’s surface at the edge of a crimson halo, the sole source of light, his enchanted eyes created. 

A few times he went so still Anduin feared he had fallen asleep, but then he would shift forms, crawl out of the water, and disappear into the folds of his discarded kimono. A few moments later he would rise, fully clothed, with his arms folded across his chest. 

One night, he swept back his curls, gathering them in his palm and tying them with a simple strip of cloth. His gaze drifted up to Anduin’s window and he froze with the ends of that cloth still clasped in his palms. His eyes narrowed. The human prince stumbled back towards his bed, landing with a thud and a squeak he _knew_ the rest of the inn had heard. 

Pulling the blankets up over his head, he flushed and cursed himself for being so nosy. His heart leapt to his throat, and he squeezed closed his eyes. The dragon would never let him hear the end of it. 

The next morning, he rose before therapy, tugging on his blue binder and a loose blue shirt before heading down under the guise of looking for tea. As soon as he reached the landing, his guards looked up, straightening their stances and brightening their smiles. 

“Off to the bath, your Highness?” Harris asked in a chipper voice. 

“Oh, I, ah—” Anduin shook his head. 

His other guard, Calvin, cut him off. “You’ll find it empty, your Highness. Perhaps now would be the best time.”

Anduin swallowed, leaning on his cane to relieve the ache building in his knee. “You’re right,” he conceded, hating how thoughts of the bath transported him to the night before. But with any luck, the Black Prince had already scurried off between the kegs to sleep, and he could get it over before champions of the Alliance and Horde started to arrive. 

Maybe Wrathion had the right idea, after all, bathing at night. Glancing between his soldiers, the prince offered, tentatively, “I left my towel and robe upstairs. Should I get it, or…?”

“No need, your Highness. We’ll send one of the maids for it after you’re safely in the water. Do you need any help on the stairs? I can come up, if it will help you—”

“No, that’s all right, really.” Anduin waved them off. Drawing in a breath, he took the last flight with one hand clutching the rail while the other held to his cane. 

He entered the dining room with Calvin and Harris by his side, and two more soldiers joined them upon their arrival. They circled around a gold paper screen and crossed in front of the nearest table. 

A voice from off by the stove stopped the party before they reached the threshold. 

“Ah, Prince Anduin, off to the bath with your retinue in tow, I see.”

There was a bite to Wrathion’s words that took the human aback. Never had he addressed him with such open sarcasm, not even when he teased him about his ideals.

He stopped, leaning on his cane and staring at him through the gap between Calvin and Harris. “Yes,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “I hope you weren’t planning on using it?”

“Oh, no.” Wrathion waved with a dramatic flick of his wrist. Before Anduin could properly meet his eye, he turned to study the glaive hung on the wall beside him. “As you are well aware, I only bathe at night. Please, carry on. I will make certain nobody comes to spy on you.”

Anduin’s stomach clenched. Another pang shot through him, and he wished he could take back the previous night. He shouldn’t have been watching Wrathion, he knew. It was wrong, especially when it was clear the dragon didn’t want to be seen.

After all, was he so different? The only thing separating his behavior from Wrathion's was that Tong let the guards block the bathing area on his behalf. Had Wrathion been given similar privileges, Anduin wondered if he would still feel the need to sneak around in the dark. 

Pursing his lips, Anduin nodded, making the rest of his trip to the hot spring in silence. One of the guards at his back made an offhand comment about the Black Prince’s insolence, but he waved it off, assuring them Wrathion might be temperamental but he hadn’t meant him any harm. 

With that, the guards surrounded the perimeter of the garden from the base of the mountain to the Tavern’s back porch. Harris alone continued at Anduin’s side, averting his eyes when Anduin pulled off his shirt and shorts and unbound his small breasts, taking his cane and offering him a forearm to steady himself as he lowered to the lip of the tub.

He slid in with an undignified ‘plop,’ making the water ripple and the bubbles that had pooled at the base of the spout scatter and pop. After he was fully submerged, Harris turned away to lean against a nearby rock.

Closing his eyes, Anduin sought whatever solace he could find in the water, and whatever semblance of privacy he could cobble together with a pack of guards stationed around him.

Sinking in up to his chin and stretching out his aching leg, his thoughts turned to Wrathion the night before. What had he seen? Why was Wrathion so defensive of his nighttime bathing ritual?

* * *

The Black Prince buried his fingers in his wet curls, cursing the blood that drained from his cheeks at the thought of Anduin seeing him. It shouldn’t matter, he reasoned when he was at his most tempered, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding every time he imagined explaining himself to the mortals. 

Everything had become a chore, from bathing to changing to using the Tavern toilet; no matter how much he drank with his champions or how heavily weariness weighed on him, he had to stay vigilant. Right was the only other living soul who knew, and though she had done an excellent job of guarding his privacy while they were traveling, Tong didn’t like her closing off his storeroom or the door leading out to the hot spring. 

His only choice was to choose his moments carefully, but somehow, even then his plan had failed. Huffing until curls of smoke escaped through his teeth, he threw himself back against a keg and punched the cold stone floor. 

As pain shot through his knuckles, he shook them out, and hugged his knees to his chest. Unbidden, his kimono parted, sliding down to his waist to reveal legs scarred and discolored: the remnants of Rheastrasza's hasty experiments. 

_That foolish red dragon couldn’t get one thing right,_ he sighed, digging his nails into his skin. _She couldn’t even let me have this, one single thing about myself I didn’t have to hide from the world._

Champions and pandaren alike often soaked together in that pool, beers waiting within reach on the lip and conversation loud and carefree. He couldn’t even have that, and he hated it. 

Pulling his knees in closer, he tilted his head until it rested atop the keg and let out a ragged sigh. Above him, a mattress squeaked as Anduin burrowed under his blankets. 

Wrathion put off bathing again for as long as he could. Finally, four nights later, a heavy fog rolled in, and he decided to take his chances. The last patron cleared from the dining hall, and he ducked into the storeroom. He unlatched his belt, pushed down his hip guards, removed his turban and heavy tunic. 

After squirming out of his silk harem pants, he undid the magenta silk binder he had created for himself and dropped his matching undershorts. Slipping into his red silk kimono and hugging his towel against the slight swell of his chest, he inched out into the darkness, shuffling sideways through the door and stepping off the porch into the fog. 

Wrapped in its shroud, he couldn’t make out the edge of the spring until his long toenails clicked against it. Shifting, he dropped into the folds of his robe and slithered into the water, assuming his human form only after the water had covered him in its steamy embrace.

There was a chill in the air that licked at the back of his neck; he fought it off by plunging in up to his earlobes. His thick hair fanned out around him, and he willed his breath to even. Red light scattered through the mists until he squeezed closed his eyes and wrenched his thoughts away from how exposed he felt, even now, without his layers of clothes and guards and airs to protect him.

Perhaps it was his pulse racing in his ears that blocked out the sound of feet approaching. He didn’t hear them until they shifted through the pebbles only a meter or so to his left. His eyes flew open. He hugged his arms to his chest and dropped. The smoke from his flaring nostrils joined the wisps of steam coming off of the water. 

A figure emerged from the fog wrapped in a silk kimono, and Wrathion’s stomach plummeted. It was Anduin Wrynn, of all people, with a towel hugged to his chest and no guards in sight. 

Wrathion would have addressed him, but that would have required him to lift his chin out the water, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to take that chance. 

Thankfully, he didn’t need to, at least not yet. With a soft frown, Anduin lowered his gaze and placed his folded towel by the edge of the pool. He rose on uneasy footing and asked, with his eyes still averted, “Uh, hey, Wrathion. I was wondering if you wanted some company.”

“Do your soldiers know you are out here, dear prince?” Wrathion forced himself to respond. His tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, and his throat tightened as Anduin lowered to bath’s stone lip. 

“Not at all.” The human shook his head. “They’d probably send me back to my father if they did.”

“Oh, dear. Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Wrathion managed, only half joking. 

“Good thing I waited until they were too drunk on Tong’s beer to notice.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Anyways.” The human met his eye. His lips curled into a faint smile, but his brows remained furrowed, as if concentrating, or working up the nerve to do something…

“You may.” Wrathion hugged his chest beneath the water, tightening his thighs and pressing back against the opposite wall. “Please, continue. I have no intention of stopping you, of course.”

“All right.” Anduin heaved a sigh. Before Wrathion had the chance to wonder on it, the human’s hands moved to the front of his robe, and he undid the tie at his waist. With a shimmy, he shrugged it off his shoulders, revealing an expanse of pale skin marred by fresh scars, stretching down to small breasts with rose pink nipples the color of the blush claiming his cheeks. 

Wrathion’s eyes flew open. His mouth dropped, and when he looked up, Anduin averted his gaze, tugging the robe out from under him and tossing it to the side. 

The human’s scarred abdomen narrowed and yielded to a soft mound of blond curls between his thighs. Wrathion’s tongue pressed against the floor of his mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, after all this time, after all his fears…

Surely this was a dream, some false hope sprung on him by his foes. But the human prince seemed real, and he was watching him, his face stained red and his lips drawn into a line, impossibly thin—

“Your Highness—” Wrathion gasped out. 

“...I’m sorry about the other night, Wrathion. I shouldn’t have watched you. I don’t know why you always bathe in the dark, but it isn’t my place, especially after all the privacy I've enjoyed during my stay. It was wrong—”

“It’s quite all right! Anduin, please. It’s—it’s okay, truly.” Trailing off, Wrathion looked away. The water rippled when Anduin sank in across from him, and he clenched his hands in his lap, summoning his courage. 

After a smoky exhale, and a few moments spent gritting his teeth, Wrathion pushed himself up onto the ledge behind him. His upper body emerged, droplets of water scattering and wet curls clinging to the sides of his neck. 

His chest rose and fell. He had to clench his hands by his side to keep from covering his own small breasts dusted with soft black curls. He forced his thighs to relax and parted them slightly, looking down at Anduin with his teeth clenched behind his frown. 

“Oh—!” The exclamation slipped from the human's lips. His brows shot up beneath his bangs, and he gasped. They locked eyes, and finally, slowly, the strain around Wrathion’s mouth started to relax. 

Anduin smiled—a bright, genuine smile—and said again, quieter, but with more conviction. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh, indeed.” Wrathion pushed himself back into the water. Waves lapped against the edges of the tub. 

“So that’s why you—?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s—” Anduin let out a choked laugh. “That’s kind of—”

“Ironic? I suppose it is, my dear. I have to admit, I have never met anyone with a body like mine.”

“You haven’t-?” Anduin started to say something, but cut himself off, shaking his head and scooting around the tub until only an inch or two separated their shoulders. “Well, I’m glad we’re here together, then. It’s nice to be able to bathe with someone else for a change.”

“Indeed it is,” Wrathion replied, conviction swelling in his voice. He quelled it and feigned an indifferent shrug, dragging the tips of his nails across the surface of the water and watching the light from his eyes shimmer across it. 

“And here I thought I was one of a kind. How utterly ordinary I’ve turned out to be.”

“I would hardly qualify you as ‘ordinary,’ Wrathion,” Anduin teased, propping up his shoulder on the lip of the pool and angling his hips to face him. His injured leg dangled into the deepest part of the water, while his upper body rested easily against the tub’s stone side. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the last of his kind, uncorrupted black dragon business to you, as long as you’ll let me join you in the bath.”

“Of course, my dear prince,” Wrathion admitted, curling his lips into a toothy grin. As he leaned in, the red light from his eyes reflected on Anduin’s wide blue eyes. He nodded. Anduin flushed. He reached out, resting a gentle hand against the curve of his shoulder.

“In fact, if I’m being totally honest, I would enjoy that immensely.”


End file.
